Achilles His Armour

by Peter Green

  I wonder how much Pericles had to do with it? thought Alcibiades to himself.

  ‘The third point is more alarming still. It is entirely due to Pericles, and I have been unable to dissuade him from it. He has forced through the Assembly an embargo on Megarian goods being received in any harbour throughout the Empire. He realises that this is a somewhat desperate measure, but believes it to be essential for the safeguarding of the Isthmus. Megara controls two vital ports on the Corinthian and Saronic Gulfs. The embargo was regrettable but seemingly unavoidable. It will starve her in six months. After that there should be no difficulty. It is also claimed that the success of this embargo will demonstrate Athens’ power more clearly than anything else could do.

  ‘Despite all this, Pericles still seems prepared to temporise. He has not sent an expedition to Potidaea; he hopes either to persuade Perdiccas or benefit from Spartan indecision. All that concerns me now is that by his actions the Athens we have seen grow great over forty years may be finally pulled down. And there is added to my distress the knowledge that when the day comes you will be in the thick of the fighting. The Gods know neither you nor I would have it otherwise. But at this last moment I cannot help praying, for your sake, and the sake of all of us, that the day may yet be averted.’

  The letter ended abruptly, with not even a formal salutation. After he had read it, Alcibiades sat for a long time, gazing out over the placid fields, bathed now in the rich afternoon sunlight. He returned it to its package, and walked down to the river from which the garrison drew its water. Bending among the reeds at the edge, he picked out a smooth heavy stone and tied the letter round it. Then he tossed the packet far out into mid-stream. Only after he had watched it sink did he return to the fort.

  Chapter 9

  ‘The man must be mad,’ said Nicias peevishly. ‘First Megara, and now all this talk of an expedition to Potidaea. He’s gone war-crazy. I was at the meeting of the Council today when the Potidaean envoys came. Pericles sent them about their business in ten minutes. Now I suppose they’ll be on their way to Sparta. None of this was necessary at all. He’s been deliberately stirring up trouble for a year.’

  Hiero sighed. Things were not going at all as he had hoped. ‘They say there’s a good deal of dissatisfaction on Aegina as well,’ he remarked, with the self-satisfaction of the bearer of bad news.

  ‘I’m not surprised. They’ve always been taxed outrageously, and now their tribute’s been nearly doubled. If this sort of thing goes on we’ll have a general revolt on our hands as well as a war.’

  ‘There’s another thing,’ said Hiero. ‘Young Alcibiades is back from frontier duty at Oropus. He got outrageously drunk at his uncle’s house. The watch stopped them in the early hours from trying to burn the place down.’

  ‘Well, we have one consolation. If there’s a crisis, the boy is bound to be sent on active service. And he might even get himself killed.’

  Hiero shook his. head. ‘I can’t see it happening,’ he said despondently. ‘He’s more likely to cover himself with glory and return without a scratch. I know these young firebrands.’

  Nicias sighed. His kidneys had been giving him a good deal of pain, and the thought of actual fighting disturbed him.

  • • • • •

  Alcibiades stretched his legs luxuriously and said: ‘I might never have been away. Yesterday I had a quite remarkably good party at your expense, and today I spent most of my time listening to the intellectually great.’

  Axiochus grinned. ‘Well, you seem to have settled in again remarkably rapidly. What are your immediate plans?’

  ‘From what I hear, I won’t have much choice in the matter. It can only be a month at the outside before an expedition’s sent to Potidaea, and I have no doubt that the Olympian will welcome the opportunity of getting me out of the way again.’

  ‘It may be sooner than that. As you know, I have my own sources of information. While you were junketing with Socrates, I heard that Potidaea has revolted openly.’

  ‘I see. The combined blandishments of Corinth and Perdiccas.’

  ‘Precisely. Backed up, I’ve no doubt, with one or two highly unreliable promises from Sparta.’ Axiochus’ face broke into its familiar creased smile. ‘If you want to have a good time in Athens, I should have it quickly. If we’re not at war within the year, I’ll never trust my judgment again.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Meanwhile,’ he concluded, ‘there is always one excellent escape from the follies of our superiors—or our relatives.’ The permanently inebriated slave Alcibiades had met before appeared. ‘Wine, fool,’ said his master: ‘I’m going to give my beloved nephew a good send-off to the wars.’

  • • • • •

  ‘It’s got to be done,’ said Pericles. ‘If Potidaea gets away with this, we shall be the laughing-stock of Greece. Perhaps that isn’t so important. What is serious is the example it may set. If Potidaea can defy us, so can any other of the allies.’

  Aspasia said: ‘How large a force will be sent?’

  ‘A thousand foot-soldiers. If we can come to terms with Perdiccas or Philip, we can use Thracian cavalry.’

  ‘It couldn’t have come at a worse time, could it? If you send troops out of Attica now, it may provide just the impetus that Sparta needs to overcome her caution.’

  ‘That can’t be helped. In any case, if an expedition is to go, it must go now. We’ll have three campaigning months to force the siege.’

  ‘I see that you—or the Council, it doesn’t make much difference, does it?—have made up your mind. Who’s going to be in command?’

  ‘Archestratus. It wouldn’t be politic to send a well-known general for an operation of this kind. Archestratus is sound enough. In any case, his orders are limited. He is merely to enforce the terms we sent months ago. The Corinthian magistrates are to be expelled, the walls are to be pulled down, and hostages are to be taken.’

  ‘This is going to cost a good deal of money. And have you thought about the problem of equipment?’

  ‘Equipment?’

  ‘Yes. The Thracian winter is remarkably severe. You’d better arrange for the men to provide themselves with heavy furs and boots. I’m by no means as convinced as you are that this siege will be over in three months.’

  ‘I can only spare thirty ships for transport. Am I to waste valuable space on equipment that in all probability won’t be needed?’

  Aspasia shrugged. ‘Have it your own way,’ she said.

  • • • • •

  In the City there was much ugly talk at street corners about the injustice of the Megarian Decree, and Pericles was several times booed when he appeared in public. The strain of recent events had quickened popular feelings; the air was tense with ill-suppressed emotions. To provide some palliative for this animosity, Pericles dragged up an old scandal. He sent a herald to the Megarian Government demanding the evacuation of the sacred territory of Eleusis, which they had appropriated some years before. This deceived nobody; nor did the complaint which he spread about of the massacre, fourteen years old, of an Athenian garrison in the Megarid. The reasons for its presence there would hardly stand up to close examination.

  The autumn weather turned thunderous, and the sky was overcast daily with piled blank clouds that drifted sluggishly over the City from the east. But rain never fell. To Pericles, dealing feverishly with the ever-increasing volume of official business that the turn of events had produced, it seemed as if the physical storm was in some inexplicable way bound up with the political one; and that their breaking would be simultaneous.

  Now he sat in his office re-reading Archestratus’ report. Perdiccas’ treachery was only to be expected; but the arrival of a Corinthian volunteer army in Potidaea was an unforeseen blow. He drummed his fingers on the table in front of him. Then he called to the runner who was waiting outside the door.

  ‘Is Callias in the Council Chamber?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Tell him I want to see him at once.’


  Action of some sort he must have. Anything was better than this intolerable waiting. The sluggish air cramped his forehead. He wiped the sweat from his face, and poured out water from the jar that stood at his elbow. The unglazed earthenware was cool and moist to the touch.

  Callias came in quickly. He was a tall spare man in his early sixties, with a springy step that belied his years. He looked at Pericles inquiringly as the General slowly drank a cup of water, and swilled the drops from the bottom of the cup on to the floor. Pericles pushed the report over to him. Callias read it without comment. When he had finished he said: ‘When do you want me to sail?’

  ‘As soon as possible. I wasn’t bargaining for this Corinthian filibuster, what’s his name Aristeus. I met him once. His business was selling armour. I think he had a thwarted ambition to use it. Don’t underrate him. He’s an intelligent man.’

  ‘I have no doubt.’ Pericles looked Callias straight in the face. ‘I can spare you two thousand heavy infantry,’ he said.

  Callias raised his eyebrows. ‘Can you?’

  ‘No, I can’t. You know that as well as I do. But you’ve got to have them. This is vital.’

  ‘More vital than securing the Isthmus?’

  Pericles said slowly: ‘I have other ways of dealing with the Isthmus.’

  ‘So I have noticed. If you don’t mind my saying so, they haven’t proved very successful so far. If only Argos were free to join us—’

  ‘But she isn’t, and she probably wouldn’t if she could. I admit I didn’t bargain on Megara holding out without food for so long.’

  ‘We should invade, of course.’

  ‘Undoubtedly. We have no alternative. But the people are in an ugly mood.’

  ‘They don’t seem to have been very impressed with your herald.’

  Pericles gave him a curious look and said: ‘They will be soon.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This will be one instance when the dead dog is of more value than the living lion.’

  ‘The dead dog . .?

  ‘Yes.’ Pericles spoke in a completely expressionless voice. ‘We shall have our cause for invasion.’ Callias stared at him, half-comprehending. At this moment there came a knock at the door, and a messenger came in. He had clearly travelled far and hard. He handed a note to Pericles.

  With the roll still unopened in his hand, Pericles said:

  ‘You are from Megara?’

  ‘I am, sir.’

  ‘Do you know the contents of this letter?’

  The man drew himself stiffly to attention. ‘No, sir. I collected it as arranged. I was not informed of its contents.’ His face was impassive behind its grime.

  ‘Very well. You have done excellent service. Go to my steward and he will provide you with a bath and refreshment. I shall not need you for two days.’

  The messenger saluted and went out. Pericles ripped open the note and passed it across to Callias without reading it. ‘The dead dog,’ he said.

  Callias read: ‘“By this you will know that your orders have been carried out. It is reported that the herald Anthemocritus has been assassinated, as it is believed by Megarian patriots incensed against the measures recently taken by Athens. This report has been widely spread and is generally believed.”’ He looked at Pericles without speaking for a long time. Then he said softly: ‘I should not care to be in your shoes. There is much that needs to be done for the State that will lie heavily on a man’s conscience.’

  Pericles said, as if he had not heard: ‘Do you know how old I am, Callias? Sixty. An old man. And I feel old. I have held power now for longer than I can well think of. Callias, do you know what it is like to be tired, and unable to rest? Never to relax, to feel every day there is no one, no one you can trust?’ He picked up the cup from the table and began to examine the pattern that ran round its rim as if he had never seen it before. ‘I am bringing war on Athens. Sooner or later it would have had to come, and it is better that it comes now while I am still here to execute what I have planned for so long. But I am old. And I believed I had calculated for everything. Yet in these few months I have made such errors as I never thought possible.’

  There was a terrible silence. Then Callias said: ‘While there is something to be done, we must do it. I can have two thousand men equipped and aboard with provisions in forty-eight hours if you give the word. And I shall want sixty ships.’

  Pericles said in a hard voice: ‘I can only spare you forty.’ He was fully in control of himself again. Only his ravaged face showed what he was suffering. He went on: ‘You’ll have to rely largely on your own initiative.’

  ‘What about money?’

  ‘I’ll give you a draft to the Treasurer. As much as I possibly can.’ He hesitated. ‘The Thracian winters are severe,’ he said. ‘There’s a possibility that the operation may not be concluded this year. Advise your men to equip themselves with heavy clothes if they have the time in the next two days.’

  ‘I have only forty ships.’

  ‘I know that . . There’s one other thing.’

  ‘Megara?’

  ‘Yes. A motion must be passed declaring the irreconcilable and implacable hostility of Athens towards Megara.’ His mouth twitched wrily as he rolled out the official phrases. ‘Any Megarian who sets foot on Athenian soil must be put to death. The generals must swear when they take their oath of office to invade the Megarid twice during the succeeding year.’ He spoke with feverish energy.

  ‘Excellent.’ Callias’ voice was now non-committal. ‘Perhaps we had better make some kind of public gesture towards the dead herald?’

  ‘Of course. “For devotion to duty and his country the herald Anthemocritus will receive honourable burial at the public cost beneath the gates of the city.”’ He added, trembling almost imperceptibly, ‘I think that should satisfy them.’

  Callias nodded. ‘It might be advisable if you were not to propose this motion yourself.’

  Pericles inclined his head.

  ‘Whom do you propose?’

  ‘Charinus. A very worthy fellow—so worthy that even his enemies recognise the fact, however reluctantly. He has the further advantage of sublime stupidity. He will serve very well, I think.’

  ‘I shall send for him at once. Now I would be grateful if you would leave me alone for a little. I have much on my mind, and, I should imagine you will need to work hard yourself in the near future.’ Callias rose to his feet. As he went out, he heard the sound of water being poured into a cup.

  • • • • •

  Callias took his men by forced marches to within sight of Potidaea, detaching a squadron of Macedonian cavalry on the way to ride east and hold the enemy forces at Olynthus in check. As they moved off he said to Archestratus, staring up at the brown hills: ‘There’s one advantage, anyway. The, enemy can’t see us from here, and as far as I can tell they don’t know our numbers. With any luck the cavalry should be a sufficient diversion.’ He looked ahead, to where the land narrowed into a neck less than half a mile wide. Here on the west shore the city was plainly visible, and the defending forces were forming up across the isthmus. Callias called a halt, and the column stood waiting, breath rising like smoke in the early morning air.

  ‘Clearly we shall have to fight outside the city,’ he said. He screwed up his eyes, estimating the distance. ‘Three thousand men four deep. There’s not going to be much room for manoeuvring.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Pass the order for battle formation to be made. The sooner we attack the better.’

  Voices barked in the frosty air. The column slowly began to re-form. All down the line came the scrape of swords being cleared in their sheaths. In a few moments the movement was completed, and a line of spears glinted forward in the sunlight.

  Alcibiades, in the front rank, felt his throat grow dry. On his right he was covered by Adeimantus’ shield. It was some comfort to know your right-hand man, he thought. Socrates he could not see: he was hidden behind him in the second rank. He looked carefully at
the terrain they would be advancing over, only half-hearing Callias’ words as the general delivered his exhortation to the waiting troops. His eye followed the line of fortifications from the town across the rough ground to the shore on the east side, where they terminated in a groin running down into the sea, thus completely blocking the peninsula. An advantage, he thought. If we press them back against their own wall they can only retreat into the town. If they beat us, we have open country behind us to manoeuvre in.

  Adeimantus said: ‘Just our luck to be on the left wing. Look there. Those are the Corinthian volunteers.’ He pointed ahead to the thin black line assembling in front of them. Alcibiades said nothing. For a moment everything was still. He heard the waves lapping on the beach, and his own heart beating violently. Then, as if from a great distance, came the order to advance.

  Slowly the rank surged forward in an even line. Behind them came the tramp of feet and chink of armour which showed that the whole body was moving. The distance between the two armies slowly diminished. Alcibiades found his eyes fixed, not on them but the ground in front of him. He noted, as if he had never seen it before, the short springy grass, whitened by blown spray from the sea; the grey calcareous stones scattered here and there. Then, quite suddenly, a shout broke out from each side; and he found himself shouting too. Twenty yards. Ten. Five. He saw the levelled spear of the Corinthian opposite him. Quite an old man, he thought. Grey-bearded.

  He thrust hard at the exposed neck, and saw the spear enter. The Corinthian dropped. Desperately he tugged the spear out. As he did so a man in the second rank of the enemy slashed hard at it with his sword. The spear-head dropped away. Breathing hard, Alcibiades drew his own sword to parry the impending blow.

  There was a flash and a flurry of blades, a desperate surging to and fro. Then suddenly the whole Athenian line broke, and Alcibiades found himself running. In the dust and shouting he could hardly tell friend from enemy.